paradisalogs | (no subject)

Who: Hans Von Hammer and OPEN
What: A fighter pilot arrives in the castle...
When: Now and when you arrive
Where: A corridor somewhere
Rating: PG, probably

"I am no longer your enemy..."

Those had been his words to the American soldiers, as the Messerschmitt jets exploded behind him. His last act of duty to a dying land, under a tyrant he despised. Then there had been...light. He had thought that death had finally caught up with him, that his turn had finally come.

Then he landed. And it hurt, landing on stone. He rolled on the ground for a moment, gritting his teeth, then sat up suddenly. No, this was neither heaven nor hell - frankly, it had the air of some of the aristocratic homes he had seen over the decades. Interesting, but he was alert - wary for traps.

He stood up, blue eyes surveying the immediate terrain. Anyone seeing him would see a man in a WWII Luftwaffe uniform - but the Pour Le Merite medal hanging at his throat pointed to an older, and very different, origin.

He whipped off the cap, with its hated symbol, and tossed it aside. Time to get to the bottom of this.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Thinking while enraged about God Damn Nazis: not Hellboy's strong point. So when von Hammer starts speaking and pulling off medals, it takes the ex-paranormal investigator a few long seconds to actually piece together what was happening, let alone what he was saying. Words? What are words?

In these few seconds, Hellboy had advances again, slowly approaching until he was looming down over von Hammer, eyes still narrowed.

"If this is some kind of play for sympathy," he said gruffly, gesturing stiffly at the discarded symbols, "I swear --"

He looks at his would-be killer without anything approaching anger or fear. If anything, there is curiosity.

"Perhaps they did so much evil to the land that punishment took on physical form."

But he shook his head.

"The party burned to death, in the ashes of the country they corrupted and betrayed. As well it should. Though we are all tainted, I was never one of them."

At that, at least, the cold eyes seem to flash. It appears an opinion is strongly held.

Still glaring down, eyes narrowed, Hellboy reflexively balled his hands into fists, the stone fingers of his massive right hand audibly grinding together. He mad.

"No kidding, I'm from the god damn future," he said. "I know you guys got wiped out like you should. But when somebody goes waltzing dressed like a damn stormtrooper, I get a little itchy."

He inclined his head, leaning closer to von Hammer just a bit. "So you're telling me you're not a Nazi."

He nodded. "I was there when it ended. I surrendered my unit to the Americans at the earliest opportunity."

"I was Luftwaffe. Jadgverband 99. Unlike the stormtrooper thugs, we fought an armed enemy, and did so with honour. We did not murder civilians."

As he said that, one clenched fist began to tremble with rage, the only outward symbol of his anger.

"I was forced to bail out over Dachau. As far as I am concerned, if any SS thugs show up here? Kill them. Kill them all. They robbed my land of its honour, its decency, and then let it burn."

He prodded Hellboy in the chest with a finger.

"I did my duty, as I did in the first war. To keep the young pilots under my care alive. I was not - ever a Nazi."

Well, this was all something he didn't really want to hear! He just wanted to punch this guy's lights out, that's all. Why can't you give him this thing, Paradisa? Why? So rude.

Growling, Hellboy swatted von Hammer's hand away -- with his regular, flesh hand; he was still mad, but this guy's story seemed too detailed to just be something he made up on the spot. So he didn't really want to crush his fingers.

Much.

"Fine. I'll buy it for now. But I'm keeping my eye on you, Herr Pilot. And if you so much as twitch -- it's lights out, good night."

He lifted his stone hand and curled it into a fist for emphasis.

"Yes, yes, I can quite see that."

He said it tiredly, really. People had been threatening to kill him for far too long. Threats had little import to him after all this time.

"You see this?" He pointed to the Pour Le Merite at his throat. "I earned this in service to the Kaiser - when we had honour, and duty. When Germany still had a soul. I am a soldier, and I have done my duty. But my war is over. My duty is done."

He stepped around the giant red devil man, fishing a pack of cigarettes from a pocket. He lit one, and proffered the pack towards the red being. Otherwise, it would be rude, wouldn't it?

"And keep your eyes where you will, sir, but if I see any servants of that one-testicled madman? I'll probably kill them for you."

Hellboy continued to scowl down at von Hammer, pausing for a long, tense moment before taking a cigarette. He eyed it for a moment, maybe trying to see if it was poisoned? Which was stupid, but whatever.

He fished his own lighter out of the pocket of his overcoat and lit the cigarette.

"I'm going to hold you to that," he said, taking a puff on the cigarette and then turning to leave.

"A moment, please," he said, lighting his own cigarette.

"I have two questions. First, who are you? And second: what did they do to you to make you hate them so much?"

Hellboy stopped when he was called, though he didn't turn back around, instead just looking over his shoulder.

"Hellboy," he said. "They wanted to use me to loose the Dragon and trigger the end of the world."

He considered this for a long moment.

"I thought they already had begun that process, you know."

He shook his head.

"Very well, Hellboy. Until the next time."

Hellboy gave von Hammer one last, measured look -- maybe if he stared hard enough, he could see if this guy was legitimate as he said he was -- before continuing on his way.

"Thanks for the cigarette," he said blandly, waving over his shoulder before he turned the corner and was gone.